


a year is a long time

by Nara_stories



Series: Needle and Lodestone (Tom/John) [2]
Category: Lord John Series - Diana Gabaldon, Outlander & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Cuddling, Employer/Employee relationship, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, John's a biter, Kissing, M/M, Tom POV, but Tom has nails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:09:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nara_stories/pseuds/Nara_stories
Summary: A year has passed since Tom and Lord John realized they could be lovers. It's time to decide what to do about it.This is a continuation of my fic "needle and lodestone". I suggest reading them in orderWritten for the Outlander Bingo 2020 for the Square "Leaving Marks"
Relationships: Tom Byrd/Lord John Grey
Series: Needle and Lodestone (Tom/John) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757494
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31
Collections: Outlander Bingo Challenge





	a year is a long time

**Author's Note:**

> beta by the wonderful MistressPandora <3

Tom had been mending one of Lord John’s jackets all day. It was the dove grey one, finely woven wool and cotton for the summer months and it made his lordship look rather dashing. Not that he needed much help with that, of course.

The hem at the back was unravelling a bit, there were holes in the pockets – probably from Lord John stashing all his little treasures in there – and the lining was torn at the seam by the left armpit.

“And whatever did you do there, me lord?” Tom mumbled, poking a finger through the tear. He shook his head and reached for a needle, thread, and his thimble again. He always liked sewing and he had gotten a lot better at it in the last year. Before, he used to occasionally help mend his brothers’ clothes, but Lord John not only had much more, they needed mending more frequently as well, which provided Tom with plenty of practice.

He always complained about His Lordship ruining his garments, but in truth, he didn't mind repairing them. The jacket still smelled like Lord John – like bay leaves and lemon verbena with that warm indescribable scent of his skin – and Tom felt fuzzy on the inside like a ball of yarn just from having it draped across his lap.

But today even sewing couldn’t calm him. The nervousness he tried to keep at bay with familiar activities returned shortly. He’d often wished this day would hurry up and arrive quickly, but now that it was here he wasn’t so sure about it any more.

It might change everything. Tom wasn’t ready to wager it would change things for the better. He had been happier in the last year than ever before. Sometimes, he didn’t think he deserved or even could bear greater happiness if chance graced him with it.

Life with Lord John was never dull. The man seemed to attract trouble like honey attracted flies, but he always took every obstacle with a healthy dose of good humour. He was also very kind. Tom had spoken with many other servants and knew that other masters could often be unreasonable or even cruel, forgetting to exercise their most basic manners towards persons in their employment.

In contrast, Lord John had always been good to him. He listened when Tom had something to say, often trusted him with his thoughts and asked for his opinion. Tom treasured those simple moments in the morning when he prepared to shave his stubble away and Lord John would look at him with eyes not quite alert yet, sometimes telling him about his dream or about some insignificant little thought that popped into his head. And there were the evenings when he would help him out of his clothes, His Lordship stretching his tired muscles under his hands and often insisting on getting into one of his horrible, stripy banyans that no one had the right to look so good in.

Those were the times Tom wished, _craved_ for more. He would see glimpses of strong muscle moving under naked skin in the candlelight, and he would politely avert his eyes, but couldn’t completely resist stealing a few short glances that were enough to have blood rush to his cheeks.

It was exactly a year ago that Tom confessed his attraction toward Lord John and they’d made a bargain to revisit the topic a year later. Sometimes, not often, Tom wished he would wake up one morning to find these inappropriate feelings gone. But if anything, his feelings only deepened over time, from the simple thrill of laying eyes upon Lord John to something fierce yet tender that settled in his chest and apparently wasn’t going anywhere.

He had just finished mending the jacket by the time Lord John got back and sent for him. It was getting late, but being June there was still a soft evening glow coming through the windows. It wasn’t enough light for sewing, so he had to light a few candles to finish the last stitches. The candlelight looked softer, not having to fight the darkness yet and together they enveloped the rooms into an otherworldly purple and gold haze.

Tom walked up the stairs slowly, mind still clouded with worry. It would be the first time today that they were truly alone. In the rush of the morning, there were correspondences delivered even while he was shaving Lord John. 

There was also the possibility that he didn’t remember what significance this day held.

Perhaps it was better if Tom didn't mention it. If he did, and Lord John refused him again, could he continue being his valet? Would he want to, or would it be too painful to stay close to him and yet never close enough?

Tom couldn’t even imagine not having Lord John in his life. He had to stop halfway on the stairs and breathe through the tightness in his chest. He was a mere valet. What reason would Lord John have to want more from him? He could surely have his pick between lovers. Just thinking that word punched him in the gut with a wave of want.

He’d arrived at Lord John’s room before he could entirely make up his mind. He took a steadying breath in, knocked twice, and stepped inside.

Lord John has already removed his uniform coat and draped it over the back of the armchair that was placed before the open window. He stood next to it, leaning against the windowsill. He turned around when he heard Tom come in.

He was just so handsome standing there with the blue of evening London painting background and the candlelight reflecting on his skin and his fair hair. Tom wanted to imprint the image into his memory, so that he never forgot it, no matter what happened today.

He closed the door behind him, using it as an opportunity to collect his thoughts. He reminded himself that he knew Lord John very well by now. He would easily put the comfort of others before his own wants and he would go out of his way to make sure he never abused his authority. Even if by some small miracle he wanted Tom the way Tom wanted him, and he did remember what day it was, he would still try to give him an easy way out by not mentioning it.

So he had to be the one to bring it up.

Tom decided that he would stay. Even if they could never be more than what they were now he would continue being Lord John’s valet as long as the man allowed him, serving him in any small way he permitted him to. With a quick move, Tom slid the little metal bolt in place that barred the door from the inside.

If Lord John noticed, he didn’t comment on it. His eyes dropped to the jacket in Tom’s hands.

“You've mended it already?" he asked with a pleasant surprise. 

“Of course, me lord,” Tom answered with a feigned tint of annoyance at the implication that he would need more than a day for such work. “It wasn’t any trouble at all.”

He walked closer and handed the garment over. Their fingers brushed in the soft material. Lord John examined his work with satisfaction.

“Well done, Tom. Better than new.” He smiled at him and warmth swelled in Tom’s chest both from the praise and from that kind gaze being directed at him.

There was a half-full glass of whisky by Lord John’s elbow at the windowsill and a bottle of it on the small table next to him. He draped the grey jacket next to the red coat on the back of the armchair, then took a second class from the tray the whisky bottle was standing on.

“Come, Tom. Have a drink with me.”

It wasn’t the first time, they’d shared a drink, but it didn’t happen often and Tom’s heart sped up in his chest at being given such an easy excuse to stay. Lord John poured a finger of the golden liquid in the new glass and topped off his own before Tom could protest that he should be the one doing that. He capped the bottle with a soft cling and handed the second glass to Tom.

It wasn’t proper for him to pour a drink for his valet. But then Tom had to admit his thoughts about his lord couldn’t be considered proper either. He took the glass and perched on the side of the armchair.

“Tell me, how was your day?” Lord John asked in that easy way of his while swirling the golden liquid in his glass.

Tom himself wasn’t anywhere near as good with casual words and his mind, to protect him from diving in headfirst with a blunt confession, managed to come up with,“The tabby cat had kittens, me lord.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and stuttered on. “I mean just to warn you, in case you hear some pitiful meowing from the kitchen.”

Lord John laughed, the sound warm like a soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders.  
“I appreciate the warning, Tom.”

Tom took a sip of the drink, trying to get a grip on himself. It just wouldn’t do blabbering on nonsense like this. He knew His Lordship had taken a liking to whisky while he was positioned in Scotland and Tom found the taste wasn’t too bad for how strong the drink was. It warmed its way nicely going down and he was able to draw some courage from it.

“Would you believe it has been over a year since I became your valet, me lord?” Tom proposed, then forced himself to look up.

“Has it been already?” Lord John asked, but his eyes gave him away. There was no real surprise in them. He remembered then. Tom’s heart jumped into his throat. He swallowed, even though there was no whisky in his mouth.

He licked his lips and pushed on.“Yes, me lord. And exactly a year to the day since we talked about something in particular.” 

Lord John lifted one of his elegant brows and Tom felt giddy just from having the intensity of his full attention directed at him.

They stared at each other for a silent moment.

“I remember,” Lord John said quietly. Tom’s heart hammered away in his chest like a small, caged bird, wanting to fly out right into His Lordship’s hand. At the same time, he was intensely relieved that Lord John had forgotten. His feelings weren't that insignificant for him. 

Tom took another steadying gulp of whisky. A slight boldness and a bit of a loose tongue were exactly what he needed right now. He licked his lips, tingling from the alcohol. “We agreed on something. That we would revisit the matter at hand.”

Lord John nodded carefully. His eyes remained fixed on Tom, and there was something he didn’t quite dare to call hope on his face.

“You are right, we agreed. So it is only fair that we hold ourselves to that agreement and talk about it.” He ran his nails absent-mindedly over the pattern on the glass, and Tom recognized his natural urge to fidget with something. The wave of tender emotions caught him quite unprepared this time. He drank the last bit of his whisky with a big gulp.

Lord John cleared his throat. “But there is no shame in admitting if things changed since then. A year is a long time.”

Tom’s gaze snapped up. “Yes, it is,” he said, the sudden confidence in his voice startling even him. He hoped Lord John could take the real meaning from his words. A year was a bloody long time wanting someone and pretending it away.

But if Lord John got his meaning, his conscience didn’t let him admit to it yet. “You could have perhaps found someone else you would rather kiss,” he continued, words softly falling between them, like a pebble, testing the waters.

Tom held his gaze, steady, somehow finding a place of calm within. He wanted to let him know that he hadn't changed his mind in a year and had no intention of starting now. “I haven’t lost sight of him, me lord.”

Lord John had a tendency to flush easily, whether from drink, passion or anger. Tom didn’t dare think that it was his words that caused it this time. But he could also tell when his lord was pleased and he was now. 

Lord John tipped the rest of his drink into his mouth then set the empty glass softly down on the table. “Come here, Tom.”

Tom was on his feet before he made the conscious decision to obey. He slid his glass next to Lord John’s and they made a soft ringing sound as they touched.

Lord John reached out a hand, and his palm settled on Tom’s face exactly like it had a year ago, as if finding its natural place there. Tom sighed and couldn’t help but lean into that touch.

“You do know that I have had lovers since then?” Lord John asked with sudden seriousness. Tom nodded. It hurt. But just a little bit like when he accidentally pricked his finger with a needle. It didn’t deter him. It didn’t change anything. “Can you then still believe me when I say that I haven’t stopped wanting this?" 

Tom’s eyes widened at the admission. Lord John continued. They were standing close now and Tom felt as if he could taste his words from here. “There were times where I thought this ship had sailed, and I could have lived with it. But if both of us still want this…” Lord John’s words trailed off as his gaze flicked down to Tom’s lips.

Tom nodded quickly.

“You promised something, me lord.” He couldn’t keep an edge of desperation out of his voice, and Lord John stroked his cheek with his thumb.

“Yes, I did,” he said softly and bent towards him. “And it’s very easy to keep my word on this.”

Tom didn’t dare close his eyes this time. He watched through his lashes how the remaining distance slowly, haltingly disappeared between them and only shut his eyes on instinct when Lord John finally closed his lips over his.

The simple touch sent warmth pulsing through his body, and when Lord John moved his lips, a small sound of pure relief escaped him. He kissed back, surely clumsy, but not caring one bit. He had no idea a kiss could feel like this. Like floating in a lake with the orange of the sun behind his closed eyelids.

A strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, as Lord John deepened the kiss. Tom had seen kindling catch fire before and he thought this was what it would feel like, as heat licked along his spine. He swayed towards Lord John, bodies sliding flush together as his knees went weak. He fisted his hands into his waistcoat as much to find support as to keep him close.

They bumped into the table, knocking one of the glasses off and it shattered on the floor with a loud crash. Lord John’s arm tightened protectively on his waist, and Tom felt his lips twitch against his own.

“Never mind that now, Tom,” he murmured, pulling back an inch, and steered them away from the glass shards, deeper into the room. Under other circumstances, Tom would have very much minded leaving a mess like that unattended. But then Lord John kissed him again – a soft, wet slide of lips. And then again – deeper, with an edge of hunger this time. And he forgot everything about broken glasses quite quickly.

One of his strong hands stroked up and down Tom’s back, rucking up his waistcoat and shirt with the movement while the other slid into his hair, messing up his curls to match. Tom melted into the touches, his own hands mindlessly wandering over Lord John’s chest and arms, fingers catching on buttons, marvelling at the way his heated skin radiated through the material of his shirtsleeves. He couldn’t quite believe that he was allowed to have this.

When they broke apart they were standing by the foot of the bed, both of them panting. Lord John searched his face with those attentive blue eyes. “We don’t have to do any more than kissing tonight.”

Tom almost laughed, giddiness bubbling up in his chest. He could acutely feel the small distance between them, already missing those heated touches.

“Well, I do need to undress you, me lord, as always,” he managed. Stepping closer, he reached for Lord John’s waistcoat buttons. Gentle hands closed around his.

“You don’t _need_ to do anything, Tom,” Lord John said softly. Tom could feel his heartbeat where he pressed his hands against Lord John’s chest. “I promised I won’t keep us from having things we both want. But I also won’t let us do something only one of us wants.”

“But I want, me lord. So terribly,” Tom answered honestly, voice cracking a bit at the end of the sentence, not quite brave enough to add the “you” where it belonged.

Something flashed in Lord John’s eyes that sent an answering thrill down Tom’s spine. Lord John’s nose nudged against his cheek as he gave Tom another kiss, leaving him breathless again. He released his hands, letting Tom get to work.

It took him much longer to get all the buttons and knots open, because his fingers were trembling with anticipation, but also because for the first time he let his touches linger on Lord John’s gradually exposed skin.

Tom didn’t have to keep his eyes from wandering and his mouth went dry as he took in the sight. Even without his clothes, Lord John looked like the gentleman he was. But he also looked wilder somehow. Slender, but strong and battle-scarred.

He reached out and pulled him in his arms again, their bodies easily fitting together. Feeling only his own clothes between them made Tom shudder.

Lord John kissed along his jaw, then down his neck and his mouth burned him even through his neckcloth. “I want to undress you, Tom,” Lord John murmured against his cheek. “Allow me?”

He could only manage a silent nod, throat too tight to speak. Ironically, Lord John turned out to be a lot more practised in this, removing his clothes with competent hands, quickly leaving Tom in nothing but his own skin. But he didn’t need any clothes, wrapped up in Lord John’s arm as he was, skin sliding on warm skin.

It made Tom bold, and he caressed his chest again, then dropped his hand lower. Lord John let out a sharp breath through his nose. Tom was torn between watching his face and watching his own hand wrapped around his hardness, marvelling at the feeling of it. Lord John let Tom touch him for a while, but then gently pushed his hands away, taking charge again and Tom happily let him.

The sheets were cool against his back, but they warmed up quickly when Lord John rolled his body over him. Tom let out a shaky breath, wonderful desire swirling low in his gut.

He arched off the bed, desperately searching for friction, and moaned when Lord John slotted a muscular thigh helpfully between his legs. He kissed along his jaw, then nipped at his earlobe.

“Have you ever done this before, Tom?”

Tom shook his head. “No, me lord, but…” He had to lick his lips before he was able to continue, lips clumsy from whisky and desire. “I’ve used my fingers on meself before.”

“Sweet Jesus, Tom.” The hot gust of breath against his ear and the way Lord John pushed his hardness into Tom's thigh emboldened him to continue. “I’ve used that scented oil you gave me when I found my hands terribly dry in the winter.”

Lord John made an encouraging sound in the back of his throat.

“I found that if I just lay so, slightly on me belly, I could thrust into one hand while I used my other hand from behind.”

Lord John swore in German and buried his face into Tom’s shoulder. Tom remembered how strange it felt when he first tried it. But he heard it – from sources he didn’t want to think about now – that it was what men did to each other. He quickly found out why, when he gave in to his curiosity and experienced what new kind of pleasure it could provide.

“And then I imagined you doing this to me, and oh, me lord, I spilt myself so quickly, right onto me sheets,” Tom admitted, breathless both from the memory and from the way Lord John rocked his hips against his body.

When Lord John lifted his face and looked him in the eye again there was unconcealed want in his eyes and it sent a thrill down Tom’s spine. He pulled the ribbon out of his hair, letting the fair strands fall around his face. “You won’t have to imagine anything tonight, Tom,” he promised.

He reached toward the nightstand and Tom heard the drawer open and close. A small vial of oil glinted in the candlelight as he dropped it on the bed. Then he grabbed a pillow.

“Lift your hips for me, darling," Lord John murmured. Tom did so, and he slid the pillow underneath him. Tom suddenly felt very open and exposed, but not uncomfortably so. Lord John trailed gentle fingertips along his inner thigh, which encouraged him to let his legs fall apart and made his already hard prick twitch against his belly. Lord John placed a kiss just above his left knee and Tom jolted from surprise, then had to fight a giggle at his own jumpiness. In the end, he let Lord John arrange his limbs as he wanted and watched him open the oil with a smile. 

Tom anticipated the touch, but not where it came. A warm, big, and wonderfully slick palm fisted around his prick and he moaned loudly, eyes widening from the feeling. Lord John leaned over him, watching his face hungrily while he slowly pumped his hand. Tom panted, jaw slack, toes curling.

“I’m going to make this feel good for you, my little Byrd, don’t worry,” Lord John murmured. Tom didn’t worry, he felt completely safe there on his lord’s sheets. “Just tell me if it hurts too much.”

When Lord John trailed his oil-slicked fingers lower he shuddered from the sheer intimacy of it. Lord John circled his opening with the tip of one finger, and then he slowly pushed it in.

It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar feeling and Tom melted into it. He only found that he craved more of those wonderful kisses. Luckily Lord John let him pull him down, and slot their mouths together again. He nipped at Tom’s lips, then parted them with his own, filling his mouth with his tongue which almost managed to distract Tom from when he pulled out his finger slightly and pushed two back in instead.

This was more stretch than he’d ever felt and Tom gasped at the sheer shock of it. It didn’t hurt, but there was a physical force behind it that made him realize the weight of what Lord John was preparing to do to him.

Lord John twisted his fingers and pushed them deeper, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure through his body. Suddenly he wanted more. Tom whimpered, arching off the bed, pushing into the touch.

“Oh, Tom…” Lord John sighed. He pumped his finger a few more times, then pulled them out, leaving Tom uncomfortably empty.

Seeing his lord sitting back on his heels, dishevelled, naked, oiling his swollen prick was an image Tom didn’t think he could ever forget. He thought about sitting up and helping, but his limbs didn't obey him. 

Lord John leaned over him again and kissed him softly on the mouth. How he could be so unrelenting yet tender, Tom couldn’t imagine. He was a singular man, that was for sure, and another wave of warm emotion swelled in Tom’s chest.

He thought fiercely that all the Jamie Frasers and Percy Wainwrights of this world could go to hell because he would do anything to make sure that no one broke his Lord John’s heart like that again. Tom would ensure that he only got the love and devotion he deserved.

Lord John positioned the blunt tip of his prick against that tender spot between his legs, looked him in the eye, then put his weight forward. Tom gasped, nails digging into strong back muscles. The pressure increased beyond everything he has felt before, and for a moment his body wanted to resist. But then he didn’t. He couldn’t. He wanted it so much.  
The pressure turned into sharp pain and he whimpered but leaned into it at the same time. He clawed at Lord John’s back instead, making him hiss.

“That will leave a mark, Tom.” Lord John said, breathless himself, pushing in farther still.

Tom felt delirious from the intensity of it all. He thought about all the little scars that made their mark on his lord’s skin. He could make one too, even if just for a short while. “Good,” he panted, digging his nails in again just for good measure.

Lord John's eyes flashed, and he leaned forward, the movement pushing him all the way in, knocking the air out of Tom's lungs. “Is that so?” he murmured against his throat, placing a few kisses there. Lord John stopped, just an inch above Tom’s collarbone, and his hot mouth latched onto a patch of skin there. He sucked and licked the sensitive skin, then pulled it between his teeth and bit down. Tom whined, the flash of pain melting into tingling warmth, that ran down his body leaving him soft and open, not feeling any discomfort anymore, just delicious fullness. 

Lord John pulled back and rubbed his thumb across the abused skin on his throat. Then he rolled his hips, thrusting into him gently.

It was nothing like Tom could ever imagine. Being taken so fully, feeling, tasting, smelling the person he had wanted for so long, left him dizzy.

Lord John took hold of his hips, adjusted him with practised ease then thrust back in on a slightly different angle. Tom cried out seeing stars at the intense jolt of pleasure.

“There we are,” Lord John panted, sounding somewhat smug, then picked up the pace.

Tom's prick was trapped between their bodies and between that perfect rhythm and the wonderful friction, Lord John's hard muscles and the coarse hair below his navel provided Tom didn't last long. He came crying out, arching off the bed, painting both of them with his sticky seed.

His heartbeat echoed in his body like a drum in an empty cave. Lord John didn't stop but slowed down to gentle, shallow thrusts. 

“Tom, I'm very close," Lord John said with a rough voice, leaning his forehead against his. "What do you think, darling, can you take a bit more?" 

Tom nodded and melted against the bed. He thought that for him, he could take anything.

Lord John picked up the pace again with deep, relentless movements, thrusting as if he wanted to claim every last inch of him. Tom gave himself over completely, flesh still swollen, soft and sensitive from his own pleasure.

Lord John’s rhythm faltered, he cried out and Tom watched in fascination how his face crumbled in pleasure. He felt his seed pulsing into him, hot, and strange, yet deeply satisfying.

They lay there for a while, still joined, limbs tangled together. Lord John littered his shoulder with feather-light kisses and Tom had never felt happier in his life.

“I’m going to pull out now, Tom,” Lord John murmured in a warning. “This might feel a bit messy at first.”

Some sensibility trickled back into Tom’s head, and he hooked his legs around Lord John. "But the pillow, me lord! And your sheets!" They surely spilt oil on them already! 

Lord John laughed softly and stroked back his hair from his face in a tender gesture.  
“I’ll do my best not to make more mess, but you have to let me up, my little Byrd.”  
Tom released him, and Lord John stretched his arm across the bed, managing to reach his handkerchief, where it poked out of the pocket of his discarded waistcoat. Then he slid a hand under Tom’s hips and lifted him off slightly, like he weighed nothing, pulling the pillow out, and replacing it with the cloth. It soaked up his seed when he pulled out and he rubbed the cloth gently across the aching flesh between his legs. Tom let him wipe off both of them, and didn’t protest when he threw the cloth on the floor and pulled the blankets over them. 

He yawned. 

“There will be so much to tidy in the morning,” Tom grumbled, but he sighed happily when Lord John pulled him closer. His head seemed to find it's a natural place on his lord’s shoulder and he felt safe and warm.

Lord John placed a kiss on his head. “Yes, my valet will be very put out with me, and I imagine he will scold me like a magpie,” he said seriously, causing Tom to giggle into his shoulder.

It was worth waiting for this. He already wanted him a year ago, but this easiness between them was sweeter than they could have had back then.

“But he always forgives you, me lord,” he answered smiling up at him. Then he yawned again and Lord John laughed.

“Sleep, Tom. Dirty clothes won’t go anywhere until the morning.” He stroked Tom’s face gently. “And I won’t either.”


End file.
